


Heat

by CarthagoDelenda



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Gen, Pre-Hope's Peak, Sakura Oogami/Impostor friendship, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 10:55:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1548131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarthagoDelenda/pseuds/CarthagoDelenda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A slice of the Impostor's life, six months before they entered Hope's Peak Academy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! I know this isn't System Restore (and isn't necessarily in its canon but it can be if you want) but I impulsively wrote this intending it to be one drabble and it wasn't. :P It'll probably be 2-3 parts long. I really hope you like it!

They didn’t realize until after the fact that they’d spent the last of their money on lunch.

As they sat in the back of the McDonald’s, desperately looking through their pockets, they tried to tell themselves that it had been worth it. There was nothing more immediate than hunger, and with nowhere to live anymore it wasn’t like they had any other options. But they hadn’t needed three chicken sandwiches. They’d felt just fine on two - so the third would be saved as a last resort, when they couldn’t take being hungry anymore. After that…that was what the problem would be, of course.

It wasn’t the first time they’d been left with almost nothing - but almost nothing was very, very different from nothing. They’d had to leave so fast that all they had were the clothes on their back (jeans, socks, shoes, binder, underwear, overlarge University of Michigan hoodie, all slightly damp from when they’d washed them in the river), the 5-yen coin they had left from the money they’d swiped on the way out, and the key to their safety deposit box in Nagoya.

Their wigs, previous disguises, crafting supplies, fake IDs, emergency money, and few personal possessions - if they could take the train to Nagoya they’d have them. But to take the train they needed money. And to enter an internet cafe to find out just how much money they needed, they needed money. To walk to Nagoya without collapsing they needed money. To get there without getting lost they needed money. To live, they needed money. To find out how to live without money, they needed money.

The McDonald’s was air-conditioned and relatively peaceful, but they couldn’t stay forever, and they knew their time was running out. The easiest solution would be to find a new situation, of course. But without any resources they couldn’t hope to find and imitate someone so quickly. Not unless they found someone of roughly their same size and build, as long as that might take, and…and…

No. They’d never consider that again, no matter how desperate they were. They’d beg. They’d done it before and they could do it again. But first they’d have to get off the shopping streets - the shopkeepers never took kindly to them setting up shop outside their doors. And without a sign of any kind, they’d have to…talk to passers-by. They didn’t know what voice to use, or name to give. They were wearing Shigeru’s clothes but they couldn’t use Shigeru’s name. It wasn’t theirs anymore. They’d have to find one on the way, something line of sight, or overheard…

They got up from the table, returned their tray, drew their hood up over their head, and stepped out into the heat and bustle of the street. The crowd carried them away faster than they otherwise would have gone, past blinking lights and high-end stores and vaguely familiar restaurants, down into the parts of the city they’d never seen before.

After a while they hardly knew where they were going - it was so hot, with the sun and the pavement and the warmth of well-dressed humanity around them, that they found they could hardly think of anything else but the heat. Was it supposed to be this hot in March? What they would’ve given to be able to take off their hoodie. Or afford a shirt. A shirt would have to come before the train, if they could find one to cover them. But would that matter? A too-small shirt might inspire more pity. But their girth might cancel that out altogether. 

They went on, and on, and on, unable to find anything that looked right, or safe, or comfortable. A long stretch of financial buildings looked promising, but then they saw someone else by the side of the road - a man in a ragged coat, holding a dog on a leash and staring blankly ahead. In a flash they moved through the crowd, set the chicken sandwich at his feet, and went ahead. They tried to tell themself that they'd been a fool, that they'd given away their one chance at survival, but he was so  _thin_ , and so was his dog. And they felt just fine for now. They’d make enough that afternoon to get more food. A shirt, then food, then the train. Their list was getting longer and longer.

It was the right place to be, but they had to move far enough away from the man in order not to be in his territory. In desperation they pulled their hood down; sweat was beading on their forehead, and when they tried to wipe it away they only smeared more sweat across. They pulled the front of their sweatshirt back and forth, desperately trying to get air circulating, but it was so damp already that it was no use....

There were no shops that looked like they had any air conditioning. All they could see was an open park, bordered by a fence. But that couldn’t be an issue. They could sit by the side. They’d make enough for a shirt, they thought as they moved towards the park. They would…and then…and then…

They didn’t realize how dizzy they'd felt until they moved to sit. The sidewalk spun out under them, and though they caught themselves before they could hit their head they didn’t feel like they could sit up at all, let alone stand. From the ground saw high-heeled feet moving around them in a wave, and heard a loud noise buzzing in their ears - but they had to get to the park, they had to - if they couldn’t, they couldn’t - they’d - they'd -

=====

The ground had shaken, they remembered, and then something lifted them to their feet - something large, and something strong. They heard a voice, and then their sweatshirt disappeared, and the person holding it said something and they said something in return, and then the person wound their arm behind their legs and lifted them to chest height, and they felt themselves rising and falling as they carried them down the road, and they wanted to panic, they wanted to fight but their arms and legs wouldn't or couldn't move, they didn’t know what was going on, they had to get to the park, if they could get to the park they could get the money…and...they...were...

===== 

They were lying on a futon in a large, semi-dark room.

Their first thought was that they were dead. But of course they couldn’t be - if they were, why would they still be thinking about it? But…if they were alive, they wouldn’t be so comfortable. They must have made it to the park, then. They were on the grass. And it was cooler, now. Ice cold, even, with a faint breeze playing over them. So maybe, maybe…

They shifted slightly under the blanket, and heard ice clicking as they went. Curious, they reached up to their forehead, and found themselves touching layers of ice and damp towels. They felt the same feeling all across their body, and despite the shortness of breath that was coming they didn’t want to panic and potentially spill the ice. So they lay staring at the ceiling, and moved a hand up their side. Someone had found a light, loose-fitting shirt for them. This was somehow even worse - they had no way of paying it back, and if whoever had given it to them found this out...

They were in the middle of this thought when the rice-paper door slid open, and a pair of heavy footsteps entered the room. They saw two dark, powerful looking legs moving closer, then coming to a stop at their side. Then they bent down, and they could see a skirt, then a sailor uniform, and then a shock of white hair, and finally a fierce, powerful-looking face, contorted with concern.

"You’re awake," the woman said, holding a water bottle out to them. "Here. Drink this."

She moved the bottle toward their mouth, but they took it in their own hand.  _I have no way of paying this back either,_ they thought, but it didn't stop them -  they finished it in three gulps, and handed it back with a sigh.

The woman smiled slightly, then moved the ice off their forehead and rested their hand where it had been. "Your temperature’s gone down," she said. "How are you feeling now?"

They nodded slightly. “Alright,” they said, surprised at how raspy their voice was.

"This may be all I can do for you. If you start feeling worse, let me know." The woman looked them up and down. "I am sorry I removed your clothing. It was necessary to ensure your safety."

"It’s alright," they said, wincing. "My forehead - if you could -"

"I’m sorry." The cloths and ice returned, and they let themselves sigh in relief. "Ordinarily I would have brought you to a hospital, but my home was closer. If you feel faint again, I can-"

"No," they said. "I’m fine."

"You’re sure."

"I’m sure."

"Alright. Then you can stay there as long as you need." The woman moved into a sitting position, folding her hands on her lap. She hesitated before speaking again. "I am Sakura Oogami," she said. "I…could not find any identification on you. I don’t know your name."

This was what they’d been dreading. They tried to find some kind of connection, but their head still felt light. ”Shigeru Kobayashi,” they said, wincing as they did.

The woman’s eyes widened. “Kobayashi,” she said. “Well, then. I’m sorry I had to meet you under such circumstances.”


End file.
